


The Chiaroscuro Theory

by Kaiotix, ShyScribeRiz



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, NBC Hannibal
Genre: Cannibalism, Emotional Manipulation, Hannibal Lecter Being an Asshole, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Hannigram - Freeform, I can't promise Winstons survival, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild torture, Post-Apocalypse, Sassy Will Graham, Will is a badass, Will wants to stab Hannibal, but i love him??, conspiracy theories??, dark!Will, hannibal is an asshole, im horrible, im so sorry, mention of Jack and Bella, no zombies, will add more tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiotix/pseuds/Kaiotix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyScribeRiz/pseuds/ShyScribeRiz
Summary: Mankind knew the lights would go out, they just didn't know when.Survival is a man’s instinct. For Will Graham surviving the apocalypse with his four-legged companion is nothingbut a breeze walk.For three years Graham has kept himself company in the corners of the wilderness, until now.Food is running out, but for some its just simply running.--Post-apocalypse AU, Will is a fucking badass and Hannibal is the leader of a Cannibal cult.There’s some sassThere’s some sexand there’s Winston.Editor labeled as Co-Author; ShyScribeRiz





	1. Colour Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome my dudes.  
> This is my first Hannigram fic, idk why i waited so long to write one.  
> I will be uploading chapters as soon as i can. Hopefully, one every week??  
> THIS HAS BEEN PROOF READ BY THE LOVELY RIZ.  
> Please go easy on me? 
> 
> ENJOY!

THREE YEARS SINCE THE LIGHTS WENT OUT.  
SPRING. 2020. 

“Winston.” 

Will Graham stood from the rocky bank side of a small river, it ran smoothly without a halt. The water was clean, and clean water was hard to come by. He Filled his metal canister after he emptied out the contents over his dirtied face. A decent hot shower and a clean bed was all Graham wanted, but it was an impossible wish. 

“Winston!”

He spat, scorning the just as equally dirty dog away from a small stagnant pond. Waving the dog over he directed him toward the running stream. Winston quickly lapped up as much as he could before choking. The dog made retching noises and Graham only rolled his eyes. Throughout the days, Graham wondered as far out as he could. Scavenging for simple items; tinned food, fresh water, first aid and clothes. He had been wearing the same dark green tartan button up and black jacket for 6 months now, he bathed whenever he found fresh water lakes. Wolf trap was particularly empty. The body count had quickly reduced when families and big groups couldn’t provide. Graham was lucky in that sense, although when rations became dangerously low, Will would put his dog first. His dog, Winston, was his only friend and companion, the only living thing he had spoken to for the past three years. Graham did his best to avoid the lone hunters that occasionally migrated through Wolf trap, Virginia. Only three weeks ago a family of four came into Graham’s secluded house seeking shelter, they told him they had heard rumours of groups forming into large cults, Graham had logically presumed cannibals.  
That was evident to Will when he came back to his home later the next day, the family was gone and his house was destroyed.

Blood coated the walls like a display in an exhibition. He packed lightly that night, only a few items before moving on. It had been hard for him to say good bye to the one place he felt safe. Since those weeks went by he moved through thick woods setting up small tented camps. Avoiding the road sides and main towns was critical, it was every man for himself now, and Winston looked like he’d make a good meal for any passing traveller. The camp fire spat low, barely lit against the small mound of dried leaves and wood. If there was any rule to surviving it was no distractions, even the smallest of lights amongst the dark would be a welcome beacon for predators. 

“Here, it’s not much but it will do.” 

He spoke softly to his dog who sat obediently waiting for the recently cooked hare that was being pulled apart by Will. Using a small bladed hunting knife, he trimmed a large piece of the white meat off. Winston didn’t hesitate to swallow the piece in one bite. Sharing the hare between them meant they both went to bed considerably happy and full. Graham stomped out the fire before curling onto his side, Winston curling into the shape Graham had made with his body. His eyes stuttered closed, some nights Will didn’t know what was worse, being awake or being stuck in his dreams. But, the comfort of Winston brought him some solace in the long nights.

SUNRISE: 06:00AM

Will tapped the side of his watch. It was time to move on.

“Tsst” Graham had signalled for Winston to come by his side. Winston was obedient and mildly intelligent. Will, had found Winston starving to death on the edge of a road, his bones creaked when Graham picked him up and nursed him back to health. Winston resembled somewhat of a New England Lab but Graham wasn’t entirely sure giving the physical state he was in. Will and Winston walked, and walked. Alongside them a big black stag with obsidian feathers quietly followed, it’s breath loudly echoing between tree thickets, Will could almost feel the breath on the back of his neck. He avoided looking at the stag, he knew eye contact would startle the creature. Quickly enough they came to a large clearing, it lead to a strip of open farm land with abandoned round bales dotted across in uneven numbers. In the centre a small built house, alone it stood. 

The house appeared to be empty. It looked loved once. the wooden panels were rotting and the smell of damp made Graham grimace. Once inside Winston made his home on the sofa, curling up into a small ball the stray swiftly made his peace and fell asleep. Graham spent his time checking out the rooms. scavenging remains of draws and cupboards. In his luck he found a first aid kit, including bandages and antibiotics. In the inside of a wardrobe he found a large wooden baseball bat. Will, smiled at the signature marked in black pen on the side of the bat. Memories that had been forgotten. Once back down stairs he noticed a yellowed piece of paper on the coffee table in front of Winston. The sun had bleached it through the window that looked out onto the meadows. Light hit the crops in an illuminating way, the over grown wheat swaying gently. Graham’s fingers traced over the blotted ink. It read; 

Dear Jack, 

I’m sorry to leave you like this. We both know I’m already dying. I have made my peace. Please do not remember me in this way. Survive for me, I’ll be in your heart.

Your love, Bella.

Graham felt his heart sink, the pit of his stomach sensed the loss of connection. “This was their house” Will said aloud to himself. “Where ever they are now…well they’re long gone.” His voice drifted into silence as his eyes glanced at a dusted picture frame. A young couple, in love. Graham let out a hum, an almost smile curling into his lips. He hadn’t known the feeling of love. Not truly. “At least I have you, Winston.” Graham turned around and sat next to the sleeping dog, his rough bandaged hand cupped the pups ear cooing him back to sleep. 

SUNSET: 8:00PM 

Will startled awake. The sound of a car door slamming jolted him up onto his feet. His hand rubbed the insides of his eyes and swooped down under his darkening bags. His eyes adjusted. Immediately he sprang into a crouch, resting on the balls of his feet. His hand searched behind him for the bat, once found, his hand gripped onto the silicone like a life line. The sound of voices had gotten clearer. Four, no. Five voices. Men. Ages between 20-50. Graham turned his head toward Winston who let a low growl out. “Hide. Winston, hide!” he hissed in an urgent whisper, the need to protect his dog was stronger than protecting himself. Winston jumped off the sofa as silently as Graham moved. Quickly he disappeared around the back and presumably out the back door of the kitchen.

“I wonder if they killed themselves?” A thick southern accent lay heavy on the tongue of one of the men, His voiced was laced with sour intentions. 

Graham laid the bat on the ground, he was going to have to do this quietly. 

“Nah, if they are still hidin’ we can bring ‘em back to camp. Might get appreciated for once.” Another replied his voice gruff and strained, like he had smoked too many cigarettes. The front door opened. 

Graham shot behind the wall that split the living room from the hall way. There was a faint whispering. Two men had gone up stairs. The floor boards creaked under their heavy boots. The three left split up. One to the right searching the dining room, the other straight to the kitchen and the nearest turned into the living room. Graham steadied his heart beat. Behind his eyelids, a bright pendulum swung from left to right. He opened his eyes. 

Immediately his hands grabbed forward, one hand clasping the mouth of his struggling victim while the other squeezed hard down on his throat. His pulse thrashed like a trapped bird trying to escape the claws of a cat. Graham’s knuckles turned white. Carefully he laid the body on the ground. His torso did a half turn to grab the baseball bat. As he moved he kept into a low crouch. The second man was well equipped. Will noticed the pistol on his hip and a large machete in his hand. The man was rummaging through personal belongings of Jack and Bella. He tossed papers onto the floor behind him, he had no respect. In a swift easy move, Will got close enough to stand then swing with a force. The bat collided into the hunter’s skull with a stiffening crack. It made Will’s heart race. The body limply fell with a thud. This alerted the rest of the three men.  
The house was silent. An eerie air held stiff, Graham almost choked on it. His hands glided over the pistol on the man’s waist. He kept moving, the kitchen was connected from another door. Keeping his crouch Will silently moved around the corner. 

“FUCK. HE-”

The southern man was cut short when Graham repeatedly bashed the bat into his crooked body. Even as the body twitched in a pool of blood, he kept hitting. Hands grabbed from behind and Will thrashed his limbs, his elbow colliding with the jugular of the fourth man. He cursed out in pain before screaming for help. Will turned and threw a right hook. “WHO ARE YOU” Will yelled before throwing another punch. Somewhere he knew that these men were responsible for the murder of the family in his home. The man stuttered a laugh, he opened his mouth and Will didn’t give him a second chance, his fist colliding with the side of his jaw, he felt it dislodge. The man staggered back and cried out in pain, “F-FUCK...FUCKING BASTARD” He spat out in disbelief. Blood stained Will Graham’s glasses. The safety clicked. Graham had pulled the pistol out and aimed it directly at the man His eyes glossed over, Will didn’t give him a chance to beg. The last man was sprinting down the stairs, his thick boots and heavy breath gave every step away. Will followed him. He was no longer himself. His tongue traced over the splat of blood on his top lip. 

The last man pushed his body out the front door, he spat curses as he tripped on the front porch. “FUCK THIS! FUCK THIS!” He swung the front door of their 4x4 truck. Wills finger repeatedly pressed the trigger. Bullet holes decorated the car door.  
The last man yelled in pain but even still he managed to drive off in a blind panic. Dust clouded behind the car.  
Grahams chest rose and fell heavily. His body was stained with the blood of the hunters. Will felt no better then them. A warm wet tongue licked the gaps of Wills fingers. Winston lapped the poison from his master’s hands.  
\----  
“H-He killed them all. W-We didn’t see him coming, Sir” He groaned, his voice shaking with pain. Will had managed to place a bullet in the last hunter. 

“Average height, B-Brown curly hair and glasses. He also had a d-dog...ah fuck”

“I tried to fight back. He was crazy! His eyes were pure black! I can show you where we found him, it’s not far, just let me patc-” His justification reached him no salvation. The man’s hands trembled.  
His suffering was ended quickly when a quick snap of the neck made the body go limp. 

“What a clever boy.” The devil said, his lips thinning into a smile.


	2. Set fire to the third bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, are you still with me?  
> well, if you are prepare yourself.
> 
> Proof read by the lovely ShyScribeRiz  
> ENJOY!!

Water sloshed against Will’s boots. His body was stiff as if his feet were rooted into the earth under the stream. The sun beamed against his face, his curls grazing against his forehead. He was fishing. His hands ran smoothly down the pole before reeling in the prey struggling against the current. The line snapped, and the fish escaped. Will looked down at his hands, the pole was gone and his hands were coated in a deep red, the blood almost looked black. He looked down at his feet, the river ran with the same colour. 

“Uh…fuck I gotta…” Will was back in the real world, the one place he wished he was far away from. Even the darkest corners of his imagination held some peace. Graham’s hands shook violently. The blood was dry now, the colour staining his hands and clothes a dark brown. He grimaced and tried to steady his breathing.  
“Where? Where am…” Will turned around. This was the Crawford’s house. He didn’t want to go back inside. He looked down at his watch:

SUNRISE: 5:38 AM 

Winston laid on the dirt. His head tilted to the side in an almost concern for his master. Will made a petting motion with his bloodied hand “G-Good Dog.”  
The moment he re-entered the house to pick up his stuff he had realised that the carnage he had caused would not go un-noticed. Graham felt more sickened at the thought of staining a home with unwanted blood, it was an insult to the family that once lived here. Will wanted to move the bodies, bury them, maybe. But, he knew that the others they spoke of would come looking for Graham. With no time to lose he grabbed his things and made a quick escape. He whistled for Winston and without hesitation the dog hurried to Will’s side, even after witnessing the destruction Will was capable of, he was still loyal. 

By the time, Graham had disappeared into the thick of the woods the blood on his skin had started to crack and flake. That day was mellow, Graham was disconnected more than usual. Winston was the only thing that seemed real to him. The Stag was walking alongside them once again. A few miles down from the Crawford’s house, Graham knew there was a small town. It consisted of a bar, pharmacy and a convenience store, Will just didn’t know if there was anything to loot. He had been to the town once before with a work colleague that insisted that she take him there. There, at that bar Will felt what he thought was the first sign of love. He scoffed thinking about Dr Bloom. She didn’t love him. She loved his mind. And, although Graham knew that, he didn’t mind her company. She was the only friend he had. 

Grahams hands continued to shake, a less violent tremor ran through his veins this time. He pulled on the strap of his back pack, it was light. He was running out of food, having avoided the towns for such a long time he had taken for granted his safe naive life in his small secluded house. His stomach rumbled. There was no time to hunt. Graham had this awful sense that whoever those men were, weren’t going to simply give up until Will was six foot under.

“I’m sorry, Winston. I’ll find us something”

He apologised as if he knew that his dog was as equally hungry. The trees started to disburse and a main road became evident. Another one of Will’s rules was broken. He had an aching look of displeasure as he started to walk down the side of the road, being cautious of cars. Once the entire world went dark, people panicked and used cars as a means of escape. But once the petrol ran out, people started walking and eventually more and more people disappeared into the ground. Some, more willing than others.  
Petrol is hard to come by now, looting stuck cars or gas stations is the only way to get your means of transport. Graham felt it was easier to walk, he’d be less of a target, and more invisible than he already was. The faint outline of a large building was silhouetted behind the sun. The structure of the building was simplistic and the bricks were a dark red. Graham looked down at his hands once again. 

The sun beamed against the tarmac. Will had shed his coat back at Crawford’s farm, he had wished he had looked for new clothes. But, the thought of wearing a possible dead man’s garments gave Graham a sickening feel. It was distasteful.  
Before the apocalypse, Will Graham was already a rather slim but somewhat of a built man. Now his face was thinner and his jaw line stood out prominently.  
The convenience store was the closest to Will. The doors and windows were boarded up with oriented board, graffiti covered the brick. Using the base of the bat Graham smashed a hole in the glass door, his hand carefully snuck around, avoiding the jagged glass. With a click, he unlocked the door.

Inside a few items remained. The sour smell of off food hit him hard, “Ugh, God.” Will had to hold back from gagging. He took in a deep breath before steadying himself. He looked around for the essentials, but of course the chances of him finding what he needed were very slim. In the front four isles there was stationary and basic pharmaceutical items. Will was content with what he had but the one thing he needed was a change of clothes. Wondering further back to the shop he came across magazines. His dirtied hands reached for something that caught his eye. He let out a little laugh between chapped lips. Dust covered a fishing mag, Will rolled it and placed it into his back pack. Winston looked up at his master, questioning as if that was the most important thing he needed right now. Will replied with a shrug. 

“I like fishing.” He simply stated trying to convince his dog, his reply was followed by a half-smile. 

Further down the back of the store a clothing rack held a few shirts of different sizes. All the shirts were completely out of Grahams fisherman aesthetic. He frowned at the selection of over-sized garments, all completed with the tourist print of “USA Virginia.” Pulling off his shirt and folding it up neatly, he pulled on a new one that was the closest to his liking. It dangled a little over his belt, So he tucked it in. It was a rustic brown with white writing. He then put on his blood-stained shirt, leaving it un-buttoned.  
Graham finished up by taking a few grain bars, bottled water and tinned food. Out of respect, to whom he didn’t know but, he left 10$ on the counter of the store. Money had no currency anymore. Across the road, the bar still stood, but barely. The windows, like the convenience store, was boarded up with a wooden board. All the glass was smashed and the front door was kicked in, it dangled on two hinges.

Will smirked, at least he wouldn’t have to kick the door down for a few fingers of cheap whisky. It was dark inside. The door way was illuminating the entrance, just bright enough for Graham to see. Bar stools and tables were flipped. A heavy layer of dust coated undisturbed surfaces. Winston trotted around, his nose held high and his tail swaying. Will left him to explore.  
Will lifted the bar gate up, he walked behind the counter it was sea of smashed glasses and empty bottles. When the world was sent into its doomsday, humanity split into three groups. The survivors, who were logical thinkers with a trigger finger. The naive, those who prayed to god in the hope of being saved. And then, the alcoholics, finding contentment in their last drink. Graham was a mix between all three. Although, he did not believe in god, but he often thought about his mercy or if he were capable of such an action. 

Graham knelt, on the ground a wooden box with a brand brunt into the wood. Will’s lips curled into a thin smile, his teeth showing. “And maybe, God is truly watching over us.”  
Prying open the box with the tip of his hunting knife he let out a content sigh of awe. The caramel coloured liquor sloshed in a bottle that was decorated with a stag’s head. Will turned the bottle in his hands, cradling it. 

Before sitting at the bar, he filled a bowl of water and laid it down for Winston, who lapped it up happily. He also emptied a tin of SPAM, he took from the store and emptied it onto the ground. Graham made himself at home. Picking up a bar stool he gently placed it onto its legs. Placing a glass down on the counter he emptied two fingers of the Dalmore 15.  
As soon as Will opened the bottle the smell of buttery caramel and orange infused his nostrils. His posture immediately changed. He became relaxed, in a sudden state of euphoria. Holding the glass near his nose he inhaled the rich smells of bitter orange and citrus. The 15-year-old single malt, scotch whiskey held heavy on his tongue. His pupils dilated and his throat rumbled with a satisfied groan. “Now that-” Will turned to look down at Winston who was looking up with curious eyes. “-That is good whisky” Graham let the taste of aromatic cloves stain his tongue, slowly the after taste wavered into a hint of black coffee. 

SUNSET: 8:00 PM 

Will sat at the bar, four fingers down and almost half way through his fishing magazine.  
The day had been slow, and if Graham was awaiting his chariot to deaths gates he would go down after having his last meal. His dinner consisted of a tin of plain SPAM. Winston whined at his feet, the pups stomach still aching for a more nutritious meal. Graham apologised once again to his companion. Instead of feeding himself, Will cut the processed meat held by gelatin in half and gave it to Winston. 

Graham was ready to call it a night. After finishing his zine and didn’t dare to go for a third round of the Dalmore, he was about to get off his chair but instead stilled, his heart stopping for just a beat.  
The air stiffened and the sound of growling engines approached the town like a pack of rapid wolves. Winston stood, his hackles raised. Winston was more of a lover than a fighter. Graham got off from his stool and knelt in front of his beloved companion. His hands carefully stroked through his fur. Running shaking fingers over the small of his neck and ears. “Hey buddy. You need to hide again, n-not for long. I’ll be back.” He gave his dog one last look, trying to memorise and remember his only family member. His friend. His forehead rested against Winston’s. “Okay.” Graham inhaled a sour breath. His heart jittering against his rib cage.

“Go. Hide.” Wounded hands left the soft comfort of his dog’s fur. “Go, Winston.”  
Winston left. Suddenly the four walls of the bar got smaller, gradually suspending graham in an inescapable anxiety. “Well, it looks like It’s just me, and you.” He said to himself and the Dalmore 15. In one hand, he held his baseball bat. Blood had stained into the wood, dying it an off red. In the other he sipped the last of his two fingers. 

The roaring thunder had stopped. 

Dust cascaded around the head lights that beamed through the front door of the Bar. Will continued to sip his drink, seeming unbothered by the slamming of car doors. “At least let me finish my drink first.” Will smirked around the glass, taking down the last of the nectar. The room went dark. 

Shadows deluged the light. 

Will kept his ground. His hands remind firm around the heavy based whisky glass. His eyes focused on the few drops that soaked up onto the coaster.  
“That’s him I bet.” One of the thugs snarled, his voice thick in anger. 

The pendulum swung behind the eyes of Will Graham.

Graham didn’t reply. Instead he listened for the breathing and he calmed his own. Four men. Easy. Will turned the glass in his hand once more.  
His hand threw the glass back with an almighty speed, his fingertips leaving the smooth surface. Three men lunged forward as the fourth yelled in pain, the glass had shattered when colliding against his face, it cut his eye on impact. Will shot up his batting hand swinging up right knocking the third onto his back, his neck snapping upward with a chilling crack.  
Then his ears rang out and his mouth filled with blood. The second, had thrown a right hook. It met with Grahams face at what seemed like slow motion. He groaned stumbling back. “That all you got?” Graham grinned baring bloodied teeth. The second and first lunged for Graham, their limbs flying in all directions, aiming for some hits. 

They were Unprofessional, untrained.  
Will caught the firsts fist after dropping his bat, but the fourth came in with a snarling vengeance, his face was a car wreck. His left eye already swollen and still bleeding around the chunk of glass that remained embedded into his skin. 

Will felt a surge of lust and adrenaline.  
Hands caught Will but struggled to pin him down. 

The second yelled, an almighty scream coming from his throat leaving a raw choking sound to follow swiftly.

Winston. 

Winston was biting the back of the Second thug’s thighs, his calf bleeding excessively. Winston pulled off and attempted to jump back for a second taste of vile blood. 

“WINSTON NO!” Graham screamed, his voice aching. 

The dog laid on its side, un-moving. A soft whimper was just loud enough for graham to hear. The second was proudly smug. His boot was covered in Winston’s blood.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

Tears sprung into the corners of Wills soft eyes, now laced with resentment and anger. His body lurched forward, his hands clasping against the man’s shoulders holding him firmly in place. Graham had just a moment to engulf himself into the fear that lurked behind the thug’s eyes.  
His teeth clamped down. Will could feel the crunch of flesh and muscle under his teeth. Arteries split under sharp canines. Everything suddenly became numb to him. He felt as if time had slowed down, he was sinking into the murky depths of the loss of control. A part of him loved it, the other part feared it.  
“FUCK” The man could barely gargle out around the swelling of blood and bile that rose out of his mouth and spluttered onto his face. Eventually the twitching of muscles stopped and the body under his clasp fell limp.

Rough hands pried Will from his prey and kicked the back of shins causing him to go down onto his knees.  
Graham let this happen, he was content with his kill.  
The fourth and the first pinned Will’s arms back, almost daring to pull them out the sockets. Will groaned, his back aching at the intensity. His eyes didn’t dare waver over to his companion, He could still hear the soft whining.

Head lights from the car once again illuminated the bar, the blood almost looked black against Wills pale skin. “OKAY COME IN SIR.” One of the men behind Will yelled, Will was still looking down at the blood that pooled from the man's neck. Only when he heard footsteps did he look up. 

“Now, what have we done my dear, Will?.” A heavy foreign accent announced a presence. A tall sophisticated man in a three-piece stood a few feet from Will, not a speck of dirt or blood on his clothes.  
Will Graham looked up at the Devil. He grinned, welcoming his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY???? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS??  
> HOW DOES HANNIBAL KNOW WILL?  
> IS WINSTON DEAD?  
> WHY AM I A CRUEL WRITER?  
> who knows?  
> I hope you enjoyed that??  
> It was really hard to finish chapter, i just wanted it to flow nicely idk. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated.  
> -Kai


End file.
